Poetry an' shiz

Ice Cream

There was a girl-
A very young girl-
Who loved strawberry ice cream.
She'd sit there-
Just over there-
And eat it, looking serene.
Every night
She'd hop into bed,
And she'd have the very same dream.
A dream where she's loved,
A dream where she's pure,
Where she'd laugh and play and beam.

I looked at her grave,
And ached a bit;
I was beginning to notice a theme.
These children were young.
Far too young.
They always had been,

And they always would be.